


Take It All

by anderscones



Series: Remembering Sunday [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen, angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-25
Updated: 2014-01-25
Packaged: 2018-01-10 00:14:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1152521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anderscones/pseuds/anderscones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[SPOILERS FOR HIS LAST VOW]<br/>A sort-of POV for when Sherlock says goodbye.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take It All

When Magnussen threw the doors open to the shiny, white room, Sherlock’s mind imploded with the rush of information and plans. He started to panic, but damn all if he was going to let that show.

 

_Appledoor doesn’t exist. Mind palace. John and Mary: still in danger. John and I: bound for prison. Could take the blame entirely- still leaves the problem of Magnussen threatening them. Magnussen is still planning on ruining Mary and John. Vow. Vow. Vow. Have to keep them safe. How? HOW? Could kill him. Should, at any rate. It would draw away from the high-treason. Has to be when they collect us- could suspect John did it (it is John’s gun, after all), which would defeat the purpose of me doing it. No. I need witnesses. I’m already doomed to death, anyway. How should I do it? Has to be quick, otherwise, I could be subdued, and John would still be meant for a cell. Gun. Right. How do I get it? Right. Distraction._

 

“Let’s go outside,” Charles tutted like a mother scolding her children for standing too close to a fire. “They’ll be here shortly. I can’t wait to see you arrested.” He left the room, knowing the two men would follow shortly.

 

John turned to the man beside him. “Sherlock,” he started. The detective ran through his head again, searching for other ways to get John out with minimal punishment. Nothing seemed to be any better than his previous idea. “Sherlock, do we have a plan?” John waited for an answer. _No,_ I _have a plan. You won’t like it. There has to be another way, one that won’t make you angry with me._ “Sherlock.” John hesitated, then stepped away hurriedly, trying to find his own plan. _Please don’t hate me after this._ Sherlock followed numbly, knowing he was sealing his own death sentence. When he sidled past the closing door, the detective heard Magnussen in the middle of addressing John.

 

“I just love your little soldier face. I’d like to punch it,” Sherlock could feel the numbness slowly being replaced with boiling anger. _Just a minute or so. Just a minute or so, and you will be dead. I hate the way you walk around this earth like the embodiment of God himself. I am going to shoot you in your disgusting bloody face._ “Bring it over here a minute,” John looked at Sherlock for an answer, or perhaps approval. _I’m sorry._ He nodded. “Come on! For Mary. Bring me your face.”

 

John cleared his throat, a sign that he was highly uncomfortable and trying to control himself. _Uncomfortable! His life is on the line, and he’s simply in discomfort._ Magnussen kept talking, and John continued to clear his throat. “Can I flick it?” John shook his head and let out an angry laugh. “Can I… flick your face?” Sherlock didn’t look up from where he was staring at the ground, still desperately trying to find another way around that would make John appear even more innocent. Rage was still filling his gut, and it aggressively clawed at his insides when he heard the first release of the villain’s finger. He heard the voice of the disgusting man pointed in Sherlock’s direction, not actually hearing the words, because when he finally looked up, Sherlock saw another flick get sent into John’s cheek. _No. No, I will kill you, and I’m fairly sure I will enjoy it._ Sherlock watched countless jabs propelled into his doctor’s face, and his heart clenched when the fire of his fury licked it’s way up his ribcage. He could vaguely recognize through his red vision that Magnussen was insulting and threatening John. As far as Sherlock was concerned, the man antagonizing John Watson was already dead.

 

“This is what I do to people,” _Did._ “This is what I do to whole countries,” _Did._ “Just because I know,” _Knew._ “Can I do your eye now?” Sherlock felt like he was going to screech, like he was going to jump on Magnussen and rip and tear at the man’s face. The only thing that kept his tense body from springing into action was the fact that John was still in peril.

 

“Sherlock.” John stammered, feeling like he was about to grab Charles’ fingers and snap them.

 

“Let him punch- sorry.” Sherlock apologized verbally, and with more than one meaning. “Just... let him.” He had to turn away, still hearing the giggles and _snaps_ from his right side, along with the whir of a blade.

 

“Here we go, Mr. Holmes!” Magnussen grinned widely, baring tiny, perfect, square teeth that might as well been bloodied fangs.

 

Sherlock schooled himself. “Just to clarify- Appledoor’s vaults only exist in your mind? Nowhere else, just there.” He shouted, relieved that the helicopter prompted him to do so as he walked to John’s side.

 

“They’re not real!” the response came smugly. “They never have been!”

 

Sherlock heard his brother’s voice yell at him like it had countless times. “It’s fine! They’re harmless.” _Good. Glad you think so._

 

“Sherlock, what do we do?” _You? Nothing. I have something of my own I have to take care of. It’s always been “we” with you, hasn’t it John? I liked it that way. I will miss it._ Sherlock turned to look at John, memorizing his profile, letting Magnussen talk so that the detective had time to say goodbye to the face he looked at before an infinite amount of times. Tears stung his eyes as he let his gaze dance around him.

 

Sherlock put his arm around John’s waist. “Oh, _do your research._ ” He growled, putting his hand in John’s pocket. It was odd that there was no reaction- maybe the doctor was too busy with thoughts of his own. “I’m not a hero,” he barely kept himself together with his steps towards the journalist as a tear escaped his left eye. “I’m a high-functioning sociopath! _MERRY CHRISTMAS.”_ As soon as the noise of the fired bullet entered his ears, he dropped the gun and raised his hands to place them near his head, turning to the man behind him.

 

“Get away from me, John!” _I don’t want them to shoot you._ “Stay well back!” _Please don’t be angry._

 

“ _Christ, Sherlock!” And there it is. He’s disappointed and hurt. Don’t look at me. I’m a crumbling fool._ Sherlock stared into John’s frightened expression, tears falling fully from his face at the agony of knowing that it would probably be the last time he got a look at his blogger. “ _Oh, Christ, Sherlock.”_

 

“Give my love to Mary.” _I love you. I’m sorry._ “Tell her she’s safe now.” _I couldn’t stand to see you unhappy, so I had to do this. I’m so sorry. Forgive me._ Numb again, Sherlock turned towards the team sent to subdue him, and lowered himself to his knees. _Everything I’m doing is for you- take it all. All of this was for you, John Watson, and I am glad to say that you are well worth it._

**Author's Note:**

> I took a major amount of inspiration from a Take It All post I saw on Tumblr, then realized that Say Something was also a rather good Johnlock song, and just rolled with it.
> 
> http://forsciencejohn.tumblr.com/post/74403218193


End file.
